


Icarus

by LotusJoy



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, Bruises, F/F, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Violence, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusJoy/pseuds/LotusJoy
Summary: AU occurring after the major "fall out" between the Ann(e)s; What if Anne doesn't quite make it home after she is assaulted? What if Ann happens upon her first?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. I am the self-proclaimed queen of angst. You have been warned.

Anne hears the gravel crunch ahead of her, a man with a stick stepping out from behind the wall ahead.

Her heart leaps to her throat. She has been here before. She knows this song and dance. Her grip immediately tightens.

He runs at her and makes an almighty swing with his stick. It cracks her soundly on the skull making her ears ring. She growls in anger and pain, grabbing for his stick. He grapples with her, taking hits from her fists and knees as though they are nothing.

He pins her to the wall with it and reaches between her legs, to grope at her sex as she cries out resisting.

She shoves him away, swinging a fist that made firm contact with his face causing him to drop the stick. She grabs the stick and tosses it away, praying this was the end.

He stands up nursing his jaw, looking angrier than ever. He swings an intense right hook hitting her firmly across the eye and cheek.

She gasps in pain and lashes out at him her fist contacting the side of his head.

A smattering of punches to the ribs leaves her gasping.

Another right hook came screaming at her striking and breaking her nose. Blood pours down her face.

He grabs for her throat, holding her firmly, enough to terrify her (not that she will ever admit it).

The breath rasps from her as she squirms in his grip. Her legs kicking out, one of them thankfully contacts his groin, just enough to make him groan and release her.

She goes for the stick which is lying discarded on the path and as she stands a backhand to the mouth makes her see stars.

He leans in close as she tries desperately not to give in to the darkness that is dotting her vision, “Fucking freak… You had best leave Ann Walker alone, queer bitch…” She crumples to the ground kneeling, watching the blood pour from her nose and mouth.

The only thing she hears after that is the crunching steps of boots on gravel as he walks away, and the wet, whimpers that escape her as she struggles to breathe around cracked ribs.

As the sun starts to fall behind the trees, she realizes she needs to get home.

She drags herself up, leaning heavily on the stick, and begins the trek home.

Her walk was a blur, dazed from blows to the head. All she recalls is the sudden rattle of a carriage as she stumbles off the road and out of the way.

A shout caught her attention but the pain radiating from all of her overwhelms the urge to inquire further.

She hears the carriage clatter to a halt, and she groans aloud knowing what was coming next. Someone has inevitably stumbled upon her in her unfortunate state. They have taken pity on her and feel obligated to stop and “help”. She obviously intends to refuse and continue her pained, pitiful walk home, alone.

Her head droops a bit, the effort of remaining upright was exhausting.

Footsteps quickly approach; she picks her head up just enough to register a skirt coming into view.

She waits for the line of questions that never comes; she makes bets in her head on what causes the delay. Horror at the sight of her? Fear? Trepidation?

What she doesn’t bet on was Ann Walker being the one to stumble upon her.

A whimper came from the woman standing in front of her and her head pops up causing the world to spin. Just as her knees finally give out, she sees familiar golden hair, “Ann?” at that she hears a shrill, “JAMES QUICKLY” and then darkness and the cold ground become her very familiar bedfellows.

She comes to a short while later pressed close to Ann in the carriage. Each jostle makes her head throb and her nausea worsen. She mumbles something that Ann obviously doesn’t quite hear, “What is it Anne?”

More incoherent mumbling, “Anne?”

Anne groans sitting up a bit, “Mm Getting blood on ‘ur dress…”

Ann sighs at her and pressed her close again, cradling her poor damaged face, afraid of just how bad it would be once she was cleaned up, “Shh, don’t worry about my dress…”

Anne whimpers a bit as the carriage hits a rock and a jolt of pain sears through her, “Ann, Idun feel good…”

Ann frowns, gently caressing Anne’s arm, “I know my love, we are so close. Then I will fix you up…”

Once they arrive at Crow Nest James helps Ann lug the battered Miss Lister out of the carriage.

Every movement makes Anne groan in pain. They slowly help her up the steps and then slowly they descend the stairs to Ann’s room.

Ann calls for her servants to bring her warm water, cloth, and bandages.

She slowly helps Anne sit on the edge of her bed, “I know you are hurting, so I won’t ask questions now, but eventually you are going to need to tell me what happened.”

Anne fills with dread. How is she going to tell Ann? She can’t burden her Ann with the cruelties of the world and its misunderstandings of her oddity. She will cross that bridge when she gets to it.

Anne just nods hissing through her teeth as the movement it jars her head.

Ann frowns and kneels in front of Anne, pulling off her boots and spats, tossing them aside, “Anne I’m sorry for what I said before… Earlier I mean, about what we do being… queer… I… didn’t mean… I… I’m so scared Anne and I love you… I…” She looks up and Anne is biting her lip firmly to stop it’s trembling her eyes glancing skyward, filled with tears, “Anne? What hurts? y-you’re crying…”

Anne lets out a tremulous breath and just shakes her head, sadly, resigned to her fate of being “queer”

Ann nods sadly and helps Anne out of her clothes and assists her in undoing the lacing on her stays. Gently as she can, she unties Anne’s underthings and carefully removes them.

Ann releases a gasping sob as she assesses Anne. Not only do bruises cover her face but, her ribs and back are streaked with purple and black bruises from taking hits from her assailant.

Anne sits heavily on the edge of the bed, undressing has thoroughly exhausted her, she lets out a pained sigh, “That bad?”

Ann calms her breathing and nods slowly biting her lip. A knock sounds at the door, the servants returning with things to clean Anne up. She grabs a shawl and wraps it around Anne’s shoulders and permits them to enter.

They place everything down on the bedside table and Ann quickly dismisses them.

Ann grabs the cloth, dipping it in warm water. She leans in, gently holding Anne’s jaw, stroking it with her thumb. She wipes at the drying blood, revealing angry bruises and deep splits in Anne’s lip, cheekbone, and brow. Her heart is breaking, and Anne looks utterly defeated which is tearing her heart in two.

With each gentle swipe of the cloth, Anne desperately tries not to cry out. Pain radiates through her; one stroke makes her yelp and causes her eyes to well up. Her hands fist in Ann’s skirts, knuckles white with tension.

Ann feels a tear steak down her own face, but she pushes through, cleaning every bit of blood off Anne.

Once she finishes cleaning her up, she bandages Anne's damaged ribs and assists her in dressing in clean nightclothes. Leaning her back against the propped pillows she pulls the covers up to her chin.

Ann presses a soft kiss to Anne’s forehead, “Anne, I’m going to go put together a letter for your Aun-“  
  
Anne sits up abruptly and grabs Ann’s wrist stopping her from leaving, “No, p-please don’t… She doesn’t need this right now. Not again.” Her breath heaves out of her.

Ann is puzzled, _again?, _“Anne, I’m not understanding you, she needs to know where you are, she’ll worry, and eventually, she will find out…”

Anne’s breathing hitches in her throat, “She will find out eventually, I know, but right now she is unwell… I- I don’t want to subject her to this again… Please…”

Ann peaks an eyebrow, “Fine, I will say you are staying over, I won’t say why. However, now, you REALLY owe an explanation.”

Anne nods solemnly; her eyes beginning to droop.

Ann sighs, brushing her fingers across Anne's hair, “Get some rest. I will wake you in a few hours for dinner.”

Before she even moves from the bed, soft snores are escaping the battered and bruised Anne.

Ann sags and moves to her desk to pen a letter to Aunt Anne, just briefly stating Anne had decided to stay a few days and asking for them to send clothing for her.

She quickly makes her way downstairs and informs James he is to deliver the letter and not mention to them that Anne is anything other than well. The last thing she needs is Aunt Anne’s health worsening from the stress of hearing Anne’s state.

She heads back up to Anne, quietly entering her bedroom. She finds Anne curled in a ball; her face pressed into her pillow as she hugs it tightly to her chest. Ann’s chest tightens, filling with warmth. She kicks off her slippers and crawls onto the bed next to Anne.

As soon as her weight shifts the bed Anne rolls towards her in her sleep and wraps her arms firmly around Ann’s torso.

Ann leans down, pressing her lips to the top of Anne’s head. Once she settles in, pulling Anne tight to her, she feels herself begin to drift. She hadn’t realized how much the day, specifically discovering a very battered Anne, bloodied in the road, had exhausted her. Her eyes fall shut, lulled by Anne’s soft snores.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless you all for your patience.

Anne wakes up and doesn’t move.

She can feel the world shifting around her.

She is lying still and yet it feels like she is on a rocking boat, while drunk.

Her head pounds, the throbbing radiating through her.

Her heart sinks when she remembers what happened, and who found her.

_No. No. No. I cannot do this. _

She breathes in and groans aloud at the pain in her chest.

Ann wakes and rolls over when she hears Anne’s pained noise, “Anne, are you alright? What can I do to help? Do you want brandy?”

Anne huffs, and tries to sit up in bed but, bearing weight on her spine causes a sharp twinge in her chest that takes the breath out of her a whimper escaping her.

Ann’s face drops, “Anne, please?”

Anne leans back against the pillows, and turns her face toward Ann.

Ann gasps when she sees how bruised Anne’s face is.

Her left eye and the bridge of her nose are black and blue, her cheek and lip smattered with dark purple framing deep, angry cuts, her bruised eye is slightly bloodshot.

Ann reaches out toward Anne and is shocked when she avoids her touch, “Anne, what have I done?”

Anne sighs, her hands gripped tightly in the blankets that cloak her, “I repulse you, don’t I? It’s what you said yesterday… Repugnant. Queer. That’s me. I didn’t forget. I cannot forget. I’ve tried. Even had it beat out of me and I couldn’t forget.” Her hands tremble as she tries to calm her temper. The anger was making her headache worse by the second.

Ann’s eyes fill with tears, appalled at hearing the words reiterated to her in such a way.

Anne grits her teeth nearly growling, “You wanted to hear what happened right? I will tell you. You should know…”

Anne begins to recount the entire altercation in detail Ann.

Her voice shakes when she recalls her assailant grasping her most intimate parts through her skirts.

A gasping cry escapes Ann when she hears this, her hands cup over her mouth to stifle the noise she makes.

Anne continues explaining the beating she took and then pauses, preparing herself. As she speaks what he said to her

_Fucking freak… _

_Leave Ann Walker alone_

_Queer bitch…_

Her voice quakes, her heart feels like it’s being crushed in her chest. She can feel tears fall from her eyes and roll down her face.

Ann crumples in on herself a silent scream stuck in her throat. 

Anne cannot even look at her, she can feel her composure slipping as she can no longer hear the man’s voice, only Ann’s.

Ann again, reaches for Anne, her hand falling short, begging, “A-Anne, p-please… I-I love you… Anne… please”

She watches as tears slip down Anne’s cheeks, her lip trembles.

Everything falls into place and Ann can feel the decision her brain and body make for her.

She can see Anne desperately clinging to her control, trying hard as she can to not fall apart.

Ann sees the chink in Anne’s armor, the vulnerability hidden deep in her gaze. She can see the hurt that sits at the back of Anne’s mind and causes tightness to sit in her chest making each breath nearly impossible no matter how much she claims that none of this affects her.

Anne can feel Ann’s gaze picking her apart when something shifts within her. She watches as Ann reaches toward her with more volition than before. Ann gently pulls Anne to her, holding her bruised body against her chest.

Ann’s gaze softens as Anne melts into her, and her voice comes out stronger than she has ever heard it, “Anne, I know I hurt you and for that, I am sorrier than you can imagine. Just know that regardless of what that… f-fucking monster… said and did… I love you… you aren’t a freak… and if what we do makes you queer, then I want to be queer with you… for the rest of our days, as your wife.”

Anne’s face is pressed to Ann’s chest, unmoving, her eyes overflowing onto the bodice of Ann’s dress. Her breaths rattle out of her wetly. Upon hearing Ann’s admission that she wants to be her wife, all control is lost. A sob wrenches itself out of Anne’s throat and she bites down onto her bruised knuckles to quiet herself. Her mind races, her thoughts are scattered.

_Freak._

_Bitch._

_Queer._

_Monster._

_Wife._

_Did she say… wife?_

_My wife._

She keens into her Ann’s shoulder as her brain finally processes what was just said.

Ann shushes her, pulling her hand away, holding her close. Ann places soft kisses on Anne’s forehead, doing anything she can to comfort Anne.

Slowly, Anne’s breathing began to calm and her grip on Ann’s dress slowly loosens.

Ann, rubs gentle circles across Anne’s back, “Anne, I know this is a lot, but we should really try and get some food in you…”

Anne buries her head deeper into Ann’s bodice and expels a disgruntled sigh.

Ann smiles at this and pulls herself out of Anne’s grasp offering a hand to help her up.

Anne sucks in a pained breath as she is hoisted out of bed. The wrenching pain in her ribs near pulls a scream out of her and she bites down on her lip to stifle it; she tastes iron.

Ann can see Anne flinch and cringes, trying her best to brace Anne’s weight against her body.

Anne’s knees buckle a bit from the pain and Ann catches her by the elbow holding her upright as she breathes through the pain, “Anne, are you okay?”

Anne takes a moment, and then gives a short nod, “As okay as I think we are going to get for a time.”

Ann drapes her dressing gown around Anne and helps her slowly cross the room and head down to the dining room.

Once Ann gets her seated at the table and helps her grab some food she sits down.

They eat in relative silence, Ann smiling at Anne’s appetite.

Anne catches her watching and they exchange a tender glance, “Ann, I haven’t thanked you. I am truly grateful for the care you have taken with me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

Ann’s eyes well up a little and she beams at Anne, glancing around, “I would do anything for you. I hope you know that.”

A brilliant smile bursts across Anne’s face, causing her to cringe a little as her lip splits a bit.

A pained laugh looses itself from her chest and Ann shakes her head and giggles softly as Anne cleans her plate.

She pushes her plate away, worry masks her features, looking to Ann, “Have you heard back from my Aunt yet?”

Ann shakes her head, “No, but we can find out on the way back up to my room…”

As they make their way out of the dining room, Ann inquires as to whether any letters had arrived, and she is handed a letter addressed to her from Aunt Anne.

Anne blanches a bit and Ann quickly tucks the letter away and helps her up the stairs back to the bedroom, seating her gently on the edge of the bed, “Are you alright? When you saw the letter, you started to look a little… green…”

Anne sighs, her fingers worrying at her lip, “Hmm… I’m concerned, about the contents of that letter. What questions were asked, as I assume you were vague in your explanation… They will naturally assume something is wrong as I didn’t write them myself… which I would have thought of if my brain was working at full capacity…”

Anne lets out a frustrated growl, “Open it please?”

The letter is quickly opened, scanned, and passed to Anne.

Anne chews at her lip as she reads, and then re-reads the letter, “F- Good Lord. She jumped right to conclusions, didn’t she?”

Ann nods, her eyes wide, “Anne, what happened? W-why do they automatically assume the worst? Why did you say this has happened before?”

Anne’s eyes fall, “Did I say that? Well… I do owe you an explanation then… But I will definitely take that brandy now…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so desperately sorry for the delay. I had writer's block and then work became consuming. Thank you for your patience!!!

Ann scoots out of the room and quickly returns with a glass of brandy.

When she returns, she finds Anne in the middle of the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, head resting on them.

Ann frowns and sits on the edge of the bed, “Anne, you alright?”

Anne peaks over her knees, eyes red and wet, “Hmm... Not quite, no.”

Ann hands her the brandy and notices the trembling in her hand.

Anne takes a big swig and sets the glass down on her night table.

Her hands grasp the blanket that is draped over her knees, wringing it anxiously.

She takes a shaky breath, “The first time was when I was 14. I had just come back to school from winter recess with my family. There was a new girl in class, her name was Emma. She seemed kind enough at first but after a few weeks, things started to change.

First, she began with poking fun of how I looked. She would point out my knobby knees, gangly limbs, mousy brown hair, pointed nose, all silly school-child taunts. None really bothered me because over my formative years I had grown accustomed to adults’ cruel critiques over my unusual appearance.

When she started to point out that I looked like a boy, however, that started a whole new set of issues. Once that began everyone started to catch on. I soon became an outcast because of my boyish tendencies.

Then there was Eliza…”

Anne’s voice fades away at this, her throat closing around the name. Tears begin pricking behind her eyes _(becoming soft with age?) _and she feels Ann shift and grip her arm in a comforting gesture.

Anne quickly clears her throat and wipes at her eyes, sniffing, then continuing with the story, “Eliza, was my first. She was the daughter of a surgeon, left at the boarding school because she was the shame of her family. You see her father he was English, but her mother, she was Indian.

As you can imagine she didn’t quite fit in from the start, but we found friends in each other, outcasts that we were. Our friendship eventually turned into something more. For a while, we managed to sneak under everyone’s noses.

No one suspected a thing until Emma caught us pressed a little too close over a book. Then the rumors began to spin out of control. The headmaster insisted on examining our diaries which we thought were so well coded. We were so very wrong. We were found out and I was chastised, Eliza however, was locked away until her father came for her.

In the meantime, the taunts continued until I had enough. Emma, upon finding out about both what I was doing and who I was doing it with began a vicious tirade in an attempt to ruin both Eliza’s and my lives-“ Anne’s voice breaks, and a tear streaks down her nose, falling to the blanket in her lap.

“I heard her saying a-awful things about Eliza, how she looked, that she was q-queer… and I just… snapped…” Anne’s voice shakes as Ann wipes tears off her cheeks. Her fist suddenly balls up and her knuckles go white, she tremors with tension, rage filling her.

“Once I started hitting her, I couldn’t stop. She was not a small girl either, naturally, she fought back. We loosed fists on each other but I didn’t feel a single blow. I could only feel the rage and heartbreak of Eliza being taken from me… blood sprang from our nose and lips… I only remember hitting her and hitting her until my knuckles were split. She swung one good blow to the side of my head and my ears rang, I launched myself at her but, I was suddenly being forcibly pulled off her screaming with rage…” Ann reaches for Anne’s balled fist pulling it open, soothing the tension, brushing her thumb across those once damaged knuckles. Her breaths were shaky, heart-broken for Anne’s hurt.

“I was immediately struck by the headmaster and locked in my room and informed I was to be sent home. I was also told that Eliza had stopped speaking upon news of her father coming for her. All she would do, apparently, was sit, rock, and c-cry my name… They refused to let me see her, even to say goodbye. It was probably for the best that I was expelled as I could scarcely leave my bed; my heart was crushed. Eliza’s father came for her before I was brought home and the headmaster took it upon himself to inform me that Eliza was being brought directly to an asylum as she refused to speak, eat, or move. She was essentially catatonic, and the headmaster made it very clear this was my doing.” Anne wipes at her nose, her face falling into her hands.

Ann pulls Anne into her chest, her shoulders heaving as she sobs. Ann could only sit holding Anne tightly to her as silent tears dropped into Anne’s hair. With a steadying breath, Ann tilted Anne’s head up so their eyes met. Anne’s eyes were red-lined, tears continuing to fall from her eyes, her cheeks blotchy, nose red. She tried to avert her eyes, but Ann held her chin firmly in place and with a small, but strong voice, “Anne, you did nothing wrong.”

Anne’s face crumbles, “I-It doesn’t change Eliza’s fate… she died in that asylum… alone...” The noise that escapes Anne shatters Ann’s heart, sounding akin to an injured animal Anne collapsed on herself.

Ann could only hold her and try to comfort her to the best of her abilities. After some time, Anne’s sobbing began to quiet as Ann’s fingers carded gently through her tangled hair, “Anne? Can you sit up?”

Anne slowly sits up, eyes puffy and wet. Ann sighs sadly at seeing her very broken Anne.

Anne’s voice rough with emotion quietly continues, “As soon as I arrived home, my father, well he would scarcely look at me… My mother, however, was outraged and appalled. She made my life a living hell…

It was soon after that I began to reject femininity completely, dressing almost exclusively as a boy. This made my mother lose her patience with me and her frustration was best shown physically. A few split lips later I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle at Shibden. They may not have understood me, but at least they tried…”

Ann sat, in stunned silence, her hands clasped firmly around Anne’s.

Anne meets her gaze tentatively, immediately worried that her admission will overwhelm Ann. What Ann does next astonishes her.

Ann leans in, peppering her bruised cheeks with kisses, “Anne, I am so sorry for what you went through, but if it brings you any consolation. It brought you to me…”

Anne’s eyes go wide, filling again, overcome by the words of her darling Ann. A soft smile crosses her face, her heart full to bursting. Her joy, however, is quickly quieted as she remembers all the other confessions she has yet to make.

Ann watches her smile disappear and raises a brow.

Anne looks down into her lap, “There is more… so much more…”

Ann blanches, but holds Anne’s hand tightly, “I’m here to listen when you are ready…”


End file.
